


Fruitcaaake!

by 3amepiphany



Series: 25 Days of WOYmas [6]
Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 08:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9063478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3amepiphany/pseuds/3amepiphany
Summary: One time me and my coworkers were discussing odd Christmas songs and it came up that the B-52's did a Christmas song. One coworker laughed and said, "it's probably just Fred Schneider going 'FRUITCAAAKE' or something weird like that" and he sang it just like Schneider did, and our other coworker literally laughed until he was crying, and then queued the song up for us. It truly was just Schneider going "FRUITCAAAKE" and we all just about died because we couldn't stop laughing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> http://omegalovaniac.tumblr.com/post/154407563624/day-12-fruitcake-ah-man-i-despise-fruitcake

“I didn’t realize this was going to be so heavy. Sorry, buddy! And uh.. Sorry, Hat.” Sylvia said, scratching at her chin as she tried to come up with a better solution.

Wander had thought that putting the parcel in Hat would allow them to get up and go just as simply as any other item he asked it to carry, but it seemed this time around that this wasn’t going to work.

The parcel itself wasn’t very big, but he could easily see the edges and corners of it through the fabric, and it was nearly just as immovable as it had been before. After some thinking on the matter, and some nervous shuffling from Sylvia, who was, herself, a pretty ungainly patron for this tiny little post office, Wander slid Hat down around the package and she lifted it up and away from the brim. She dropped it just as quickly, huffing and puffing a bit. They both turned to the kindly little old post lady at the counter, who gave them a gentle smile and offered to let them use one of their issued hoverpads to at least get it outside.

But that was as far as they were going to go with this, and when he came back from returning the hoverpad, she said, “I could just open it here.”

“Aw, but it’s a holiday gift from your mother,” Wander said. “It can wait a couple more days if we can just figure out how to get it around. It must be something special for it’s size, with that weight.” 

Sylvia shrugged. “It’ll probably still weigh the same, though.”

“This is true.” There was the tinkling of something from inside Hat and he suddenly pulled it off of his head before it avalanched a few forks and some small plates down on him. These he pulled out and set aside carefully, confused. Wander figured that Hat wasn’t producing a dolly or anything in the way of transport because it needed a break after the shocking stress on its seams, though this certainly was a strange offering.

“....I’m gonna open it.” She reached for the parcel and dutifully ignored Wander’s sad expression, tearing at the folds and tape of the paper, and uncovered a plain little box and a card within.

In Dorothy’s succinct handwriting, the message said, “I hope you have a Happy Today. The boys say hello, and Gran says thank you for the candied abricots. She cooked them into the fruitcake this year. I’ve sent you some. With love, Mom.”

Very carefully she opened the box and found that it was indeed a block of the giant sheet of fruitcake that her Gran was famous for in their neighborhood; packed in liquor-soaked linen and mylar, and when she opened the seal on the freezer bag, the heady smell of the rum and brandy hit her hard. “It’s Gran’s fruitcake. I should have known.”

“It smells really good,” Wander said, taking a peek. “It’s all wrapped up like a little baby.”

“Yeah, a dangerous, alcohol-soaked carb and sugar bomb baby. I dunno if you’re gonna want to eat this, buddy. Gran gets a little heavy-handed with the spirits when it comes to her recipes.”

“I’m all for dense cakes,” he said, eyeing the forks Hat had given them and curious at the very least about the taste. “...At best, look, we’re outside a busy post office - wouldn’t hurt to share bites of it with people passing by. Spread the cheer and distribute the weight, right?”

“Right.”

“...So when you say heavy-handed, is that why this weighs as much as a spoonful of ununseptium?”


End file.
